


Good Grief

by kartoffel



Category: Bangtan Boys, Jeon Jungkook - Fandom, Kpop - Fandom, bts, jungkook - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Lots and Lots of OCs, a bit of angst, idk what to tag im so sorry fhfi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kartoffel/pseuds/kartoffel
Summary: Jungkook makes a habit of showing up drunk to a nearby flower shop. Bad puns and fluffy pining ensue.Or, a college!au in which BTS are all frat boys, Namjoon is a science club president,Jimin just wants a good party, and Jungkook is hopelessly fascinated by the girl who takes care of flowers in her free time.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> author's note: hiiiiiii!! so this is my first ever fanfiction, and to be completely honest- it's a long ride. so strap in, and get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions. Also there is a soundtrack/playlist for this fic! If you enjoy listening and reading (or, if you just want to have a g list of songs) you can find it here ! 
> 
> disclaimer: All mentions of the university in this fic are purely pulled from my ass— I don't claim to know anything on a deep, spiritual level about university clubs, classes or frat parties. Side characters, that aren't specifically Bangtan Members™, are all made up and therefor fictional .

  
_track: do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys_

 

* * *

There are loads of things you can expect while working in a flower shop- Like, for one, an abundance of bees, butterflies, and other bugs that enjoy the flowers just as much as humans. Or, the knowledge that your bouquet will go to a receiving, flustered, significant other. Those things are expected. Those things are welcome, even.

But, hearing an obnoxious, loud knocking at the backside shop door, at 21:30, is _definitely_ not on that list.

It wasn't like the gentle knock from the delivery guy in the middle of the day— No, this was a banging, brutish sound coming from the other side of the Hibiscus green house. At 21:30!

With my vast experience of watching horror movies, I thought I was well prepared for this kind of situation. I had convinced myself that i'd be a badass main character— with double pistols and a sick ass soundtrack in the background. Now though, with a probable axe murderer on the other side of the door, I couldn't bring myself to move, let alone play something like Highway To Hell in the background.

So here I am, at 21:30, staring at the door shake with every rap from the lunatics' hand.

They say panic brings on hysteria, and maybe hysteria is what brought a surge of curiosity to my head in that very moment. _Who even comes to a flower shop this late? For a robbery? Maybe. But there's barely any money to be made from selling flowers._ My family and house is a clear example of that.

Fortunately, my thoughts were interrupted by a voice cutting through the silence— coming from the very door that was, just a moment ago, victim of a massive beating. "Hiiiiii- I’m sorry for disturbing so late," came a very slurred, very sugary yell from behind the door.

I held my breath, trying to decipher what age of male could be the host to that scratchy, rough voice. When another intrusion of thought, this time: "Excuuuuusseeee me" came. His voice picked up, louder — echoing off the walls of the shops, which had me ducking a bit behind the counter for useless cover.

I stared at the screen door, faintly able to make out the shape of the “knocker.” He didn't look so huge, maybe taller than me, but not in a way that screamed “old man.” I counted to three, allowing myself to gain the composure that was needed.

With newfound courage, that was promptly pulled straight out of my ass, I cleared my throat, and moved to the door. The walk there felt like eternities, and my heart was beating so loudly there was a good chance that he probably heard it. I took a deep breath, hand on the doorknob, wondering just how I could make an escape if this turned out to be a terrible idea. Giving a three second prayer to a God I wasn’t sure I even believed in, I pulled open the door.

I was met with a very drunk, as expected, very attractive boy- looking around the same age as me. His black hair fell evenly into his eyes, as he moved to tilt his head to the side in obvious curiosity. The boy’s lips broke into a grin— making him look like a sort of soft, inebriated bunny. “Hi ther-”

“We're closed,” was the first thing out of my mouth, cutting off his dreamy sigh. He stood straight up, looking put off- in that drunk kind of way. I tried to clear my throat, hoping that it would give me the authoritative image I was going for.

"If you're closed then why are you answering the door?" Was the unhesitating, sloppy, strung together sentence that was returned back to me. Although his face remained the very description of amused humor, I could only be reminded of a five year old boy- immaturely sticking his tongue out.

I didn’t respond, too stunned with the quip to try and reply. My thoughts were running wild; trying to think of an escape plan (incase things went south), and at the same time, trying to find a way to roast the kid back. It was a very conflicting, and telling, moment for me as a person.

"Haha, caught." The boy sung back to my lack of response, bringing up both of his hands in the ‘finger gun’ pose. His voice sounded lazy, like he had lost the energy to keep up this conversation. “Yah, are you a perpetual liar?”

I found myself bristling at his accusation. It took all the willpower I possessed to not shoot something snappy back. "You need to leave." I informed, trying not to let the irritation I was feeling seep into my voice. I had to look up to meet his eye directly, and that, besides being held up from going home, was the most annoying thing. "If you don't— i'll, i”ll probably call the police, or something." The threat was weak and held little to no truth. That much was obvious, even to my own ears.

Drunk- door knocker gave an almost smug chuckle- the sound airy in the silence of the shop. "Alright, alright. Fair enough," this time the response was definitely toned down, but still holding the same causal flow of someone who was undoubtedly inebriated. "I'll go.” A pause. “Don't want you 'probably' calling the police or something." The last comment was, beyond any doubt, snark. And for the second time that night I felt the urge to slap him.

I blinked, trying not to let the shock show on my face, as he saluted me before turning to walk back down the road.

I leaned my back against the nearest wall, waiting to see if another sudden knock was to erupt from behind the locked door. To my absolute relief; there was none. The moments after seemed to pass like hours; silence encapturing the room like a net.

Letting out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding, I slowly allowed my body to slide down — using my back against the wall as a prop and comfort. The situation, in reality, was terrifying. The strangers ease of words, and light smile had brought most of the tension to leave my body. But with silence as my only companion, the question of: What would have happened had it not just been a random drunk passing by? rose to my head. A shiver climbed up my body— urging me to wrap my arms carefully around my torso.

A buzz from my phone sent me jumping to the side— immediately feeling the panic sneak back up my bones. Illuminating light flooded from my phone, indicating a message from "Mom" with the following text of: ' _lock up quickly, you'll need to eat before sleeping xx'_

Sending back a short ' _okay x'_  in response and quickly gathering my things, I made my way out of the shop— careful to lock everything up, and double check the security alarm.

The walk home wasn’t far; ten minutes by foot, notably shorter by vehicle. The air was crisp, but still warm enough for only a light jacket. Spring was approaching faster than expected, which meant the flower shop was also attracting business. The image of the boy floated back into my head at that moment, making me puff out a breath in indignance.

 _What was that about?_ The situation was too bizarre to even try and normalize. Though, after much pondering, it made a bit of sense. Our flower shop was down the street from a major frat neighborhood. Drunk college students should've been expected to be roaming by every now and then. Even so, adrenaline continued to pulse through my bloodstream. Nearly five years of closing up shop for mom, and nothing like this had ever happened. I made a quick promise to myself to never mention this to her. She’d just get worried, and then insist that she should be the one closing up shop again.

But she had enough on her hands. What with trying to raise two twin boys. I mean, Dad was there, but working night shifts at the factory didn’t leave much room for “family bonding.”

I let out a soft sigh into the night air, nearing up on our small house in the process. The warm glow of light filtered out through the blinded windows, and just the sight brought a welcome feeling of comfort. Feeling my face give way to a soft smile, I brought myself to move into the house. Immediately, the smell of home cooked food, and familiarity fell on me.

“Mackkiiiee!” The pet name, usually put to use by my little brothers, rung in the air. Turning my face to the left, I was met with the scene of Max and Jamie- sitting on the ground with, what looked to be a drone, in between the two of them.

“Look at what we did!!” Max squealed excitedly, motioning to the black drone with over enthusiastic flicks of his arms.

“Your brothers are at it again.” The voice came from behind me, my mom, somewhere at the kitchen table. “Doing their little tinkering.” She clarified, as if that wasn’t clear to me.

“Oh,” Was all I could manage to push out of my throat. It’s ridiculous to be jealous of two 10 year olds, but honestly sometimes life was unfair. Here I was, 19 years old, working as hard as possible just to land B’s in school. While my brothers were already crafting their own devices. I watched the boys, seeing their eyes flicker back to me with obvious expectancy. “It’s awesome, kiddos.” I smiled, forcing all of the petty immaturity out of my body. “You guys are modern geniuses,” I grinned “Einstein would be soooo jealous.”

This proved to be the correct response, because moments later, the perfect image of joy was captured in the smiles that broke out on their faces. The two boys clapped hands together, then moved onto trying to take the device apart and give me an explanation of their expertise.

I let out a fond scoff, before moving to the kitchen and talk with my mom. She was sitting at the table, having already made a plate for me, with a newspaper clasped between her fingers. “Was everything in order at the shop?” She questioned lightly, raising her brown eyes to look over at me.

I pulled out my chair, taking a seat as memories of the situation from earlier replayed over in my head. “Yep, all good.” I lied smoothly, forking a piece of almost burnt chicken into my mouth.

“And for school tomorrow? Should I ask your father to give you a ride-”

“No,no,no” I rushed out, voice muffled by the chicken stuffed in my mouth. “I’ll take the bus.” I amended, after taking a sip of water,watching the shock leave her face and dawn into realization.Guilt flashed in her eyes like a warning. I let out a soft sigh and sat back in my chair, “it’s no big deal mom. Thursday’s are my free days, remember? I only have News Club, anyways.”

She didn’t look convinced, if anything even more discouraged. “I know, I know,” She murmured. “I just- you must be the only college kid without a license-”

“Ma’-” I cut her off for my own sake, really. I’d heard her complain over the “supposed sob story” that was my driving education (i.e nada) for years. It wasn’t like it was anyone’s fault but my own. My mom had always offered to pay for my driving classes, and then, of course, the payments to a car. But, that always felt selfish to me. Plus, with perfectly usable public transportation- why was that necessary?

“Well at least-” I stood up then, not wanting to hear her attempts at trying to “make up for it” when it wasn't necessary.

“I’m going to bed now, ma” I said lightly after shoving my dishes into the dishwasher. “Thanks for the food- it was great.”

《 》

_track: seeing stars - børns_

The thing about university is: it's not highschool. There is absolutely no comparison between the two. In university, if you chose to be “out of the loop,” it works. Because you aren't forced to have everyone's life shoved down your throat.

And that's pretty legendary.

But unfortunately, as president of the newspaper club, it is my genuine job to have everyone's life in my throat. Or, more accurately, in my computer.

“Mac,” The use of my name meant things were getting serious. “I’m telling you, the biggest story at the moment is the binge drinking epidemic in the frat houses.” Mary’s hesitant voice made me look up from my computer- pen in hand. “It’s absolutely revolting-” Her lispy voice was cut off by Jona’s laughter from another cubicle-like desk across the room.

“Mary, nobody cares about a little drinking from the school’s “infamous party house.” That's old news.” Jona’s argument was accompanied by a signature eyebrow raise. Jona, our best journalist, had a lot of opinions; and he never chose to be quiet with them.

“He has a point.” Seokjin chimed in, to the left of me, looking much like a secretary: with a clipboard in hand, and coffee in the other. Seokjin was our vice president, and my best friend- to add. We’ve been attached at the hip for almost my entire life. Every memory I possess: he’s apart of.

“Yeah- you’d say that. What with being apart of the same frat.” This time the interjection came from Finn— sitting on top of his desk with a soccer ball in his hands. He gave it a toss, catching it moments later as he added: “you probably just want to avoid the bad press for Sigma Butter Alimony, or whatever it is”

Seokjin tilted his head to the side “it's actually Sigma-”

“Pause.” Jona’s loud voice came across the room, causing all heads to swivel his direction. “Jin’s in a frat? Scratch that, _the_ frat?” His face was the epitome of disbelief— eyes wide, mouth slightly agape as he stared at Seokjin. “My mans skinny as a twig, how is he out here with those guys?!”

Seokjin shrugged, unable to keep a smile from playing on his own lips. Mary let out an exasperated sigh, flopping into her office chair with a short grumble of words.

“So,” I started, glancing around the room to see all of their eyes had been averted back to me. “What i’m hearing is: we don't have a cover story.” I let my words fall over the silence of the room— gauging everyone’s reaction.

The spring semester had just started, which meant stories were basically nonexistent. There was no interesting news to be told, because there was nothing interesting happening. Clubs were just getting started, most scandals were tamed or too old to even be considered news. Sport season was only just starting again, so that cut out all athletic stories. It was the great depression of Newspapers. A news article drought.

A chorus of agreements went around the room, making my shoulders sag with disappointment.

“What about the science club? Apparently they've been accepted into a famous science fair competition.” Finn suggested from across the room— his blonde hair was disheveled, probably from running his hands through it so much. “We could interview the president, Namjoon, and the star student Ju—”

I adjusted my glasses, flicking my eyes back to the white, blank screen of my word document. “We should wait until the competition is completed for that one. That way we can touch on the results- make a real story.” I kept my voice neutral, leaning back in my chair as silence, once again, filled the room. “We’ll keep that on the back burner.”

Mary threw her hands up, her curls bouncing with the movement.

“Then i've got nothing.” Finn shrugged, his face looking as blank as the current “article.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, mentally holding myself back from smashing my head against my desk. “Mary,” I kept my eyes glued to the computer screen “what all do you have on the frat story?”

I faintly heard a scoff coming from Jona, probably, and a low whistle from Seokjin.

I knew, just as everyone else, that the story wasn't too complex- or even intriguing. But with no cover story there was no article, and this needed to be out by next week: at the latest. I looked up just as Mary bounced out of her chair, curls flinging wildly around her face.

“I’ll send all of my writing to you by the end of today!” She lisped out the words, voice full of excitement with a lower undertone of pride. In all fairness, this was her first cover story.

“Good, do that.” I watched as she moved around in a little dance— a smile tugging on the corners of my lips from the sight. “I’ll be heading out then, make sure to clean and lock up before you all leave.” I informed the crew, trying not to laugh at the scene of Mary attempting to rub her victory in the other two boys’ face.

“See ya’ boss.” Came Finn’s reply, flicking me a peace sign as I turned away.

Seokjin, as expected, followed me out only moments later. The air was warm, the beginning of spring manifesting itself in the weather. As expected, almost everyone was taking advantage of the sun: studying in the grass, unpacking picnics, while others had games of frisbee and soccer going.

As Seokjin and I walked, I ran over the previous conversation back and forth in my head. Despite the positive outcome, I couldn't help myself from feeling a surge of disappointment at the lack of stories. A story like the one we were planning on writing, the one about the frat boys, was simply gossip.

“It’ll be okay.” Seokjin was staring at me— his face the perfect picture of calm and collected. He didn't specify what he was talking about, but I knew right away. It always seemed like he could read my mind.

“I know,” The confidence in my voice was stronger than I was feeling. I clasped my hands loosely together, behind my back, as we walked. “You're not mad, are you?” I was hesitant to ask: not really wanting to hear the answer. “I mean, this is about your frat house- your friends.”

He gave a light shrug— “A story is a story,” a pause was given in lieu to him bumping his side against mine. “Especially if it's true. And who knows,” we passed a group of people playing guitar— having a jam session “maybe the story could help some of those who go too hard.”

I nodded along, shoving my hands deep into my pockets. I hadn't thought of it like that, but then again— i'm not sure anyone besides Seokjin would think of it like that. He always looked at the world as if it were infinitely good— and everything was able to be fixed.

“So, your frat-” My attempt at pulling some details out of him was interrupted by two boys from behind us.

A chorus of “Seokjin!”s rang in the air, pulling both me and the boy in question to a halt. We swiveled, almost in unison, to the duo walking behind us. A boy with striking orange hair, and a friendly face— accompanied by a hauntingly familiar mop of black hair, and a soft bunny smile.

I felt the air punch out of my lungs— eyes widening at the same moment that the boy, himself, glanced over at me. I watched his eyebrows knit together, an intense concentration flooding into his expression as he stared me down.

Seokjin was the first to speak, smiling lightly at the other two boys. “Jimin, Jungkook,” his voice held only amusement “‘m surprised to see you two up and moving after that party last night.”

The party last night. I flicked my gaze between Seokjin and Jungkook, the latter of the two still looking like he was trying answer the mysteries of the universe with every passing second.

The orange haired boy, the one who Seokjin nodded to first, Jimin- let out a laugh that held nothing but sunshine and friendliness. “It's what we do, Jin-” His words were interrupted by the boy next to him.

“Do I know you?” The question had me blinking, and taking a step back all at once.

“No, you don't.” I kept my voice firm— seeing the confusion in Seokjin’s face and the raise of eyebrow Jimin sported out of the corner of my eye.

“Are you sur-”

“Yes.” I interrupted, nodding my head along with the word.

“How sure?” He questioned again, looking utterly stumped.

“Pretty sure.” I squeaked out.

There was a pause, no one daring to break the silence.

“Like what percentage of ‘sure’ are you at?”

“What?” I glanced over at Seokjin— watching him shrug back at me in response. He looked just about as miffed as Jungkook.

Jimin, once again, let out a loud laugh, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder as he did so. “Kook, you aren't going to pull any girls with those lines.”

I flicked my eyes back to Jungkook who was biting his lip in obvious concentration, his head slightly tilted. The similarities from the previous night came so vividly that I found myself taking another step back. “I-I probably should get going…” I put lightly, bumping Seokjin’s side as a wordless goodbye.

Jungkook’s mouth dropped open— in either realization or protest, I couldn't tell which. And, honestly, I wasn't interested in staying to find out.

Seokjin nodded in response, mumbling something along the lines of ‘text me’ but i was too busy getting the hell out of there to take any real notice.

《 》  
_track: if you wanna stay - the griswolds_

The walk to the bus stop felt much longer with the newest set of revelations on my mind. _Jungkook_. So that was his name. He was cute— in the way that, i'm sure, every girl recognizes.

I pushed my hands roughly through my hair— trying to simultaneously push the thoughts out as well. “Stupid Jungkook, stupid drunk knocking, stupi–”

My little rant was cut off by the doors of the bus opening in front of me— revealing a very bored looking bus driver staring at me expectantly. I hadn't even heard the vehicle pull up, too lost in my own reverie. I nodded to the driver, pushing myself into the bus and picking the most familiar seat in the back corner.

It was a short bus ride, only 10 minutes, but enough time to finally stop thinking about that night. I made my way to the Flower Shop— walking in to be greeted by the soft smell of blooming flowers, and my mom, sitting behind the counter in deep conversation with a customer. I moved to the back storage room, grabbing a green apron and tying it around myself before starting with the plants.

Making my rounds around the shop, checking on flower pots and the progress of new blooms— it was a calming job. Easy to see why my mom loved it so much. There was also something so satisfying in being aide to the growth of something.

An hour or two passed, and my mom was yelling out a goodbye– giving me instructions like any normal day. I waved to her leaving figure, taking the spot behind the counter as more customers began to enter.

It was a busier day today, giving me a distraction that was well appreciated— and by closing time, I had almost forgotten completely about last night and the odd encounter with Jungkook today. As expected, no drunken knocks, or bunny smiles were thrown at me tonight. And locking up went as easy as it usually proved to be.

Replacing the relief I should've been feeling, there was another set of emotions. Too many to describe, though the familiar pull of disappointment hit me like a brick: surprising me more than anything else. I wasn't sure what the disappointment was directed at anymore, but the feeling of it followed me the whole way home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jungkook can be a pissbaby sometimes.

 

* * *

  
**Chapter Two**   
_track: runaway baby - bruno mars_

  
  
“Please tell me again why we are doing this?” The question tumbled out of my lips before I could stop it. Beside me, stood Mary, who didn’t give a response right away. And that little detail in itself was enough to assure me that this was a dangerous idea. In front of us stood the light blue house which was more commonly known as the Sigma Chi fraternity.

I glanced over at Mary who looked like she was mentally preparing herself for a showdown with John Cena. “Because, we need this interview.” Her voice sounded confident, something I couldn’t relate to. “The article needs to be in by tomorrow and we have no ‘inside source’.”

Her argument was sound, made complete sense, and was definitely ,on all levels, correct. But, the pooling of nerves in my stomach was not agreeing, and in that moment she sounded like a lunatic. Dangerous. “Why couldn’t we just interview Seokjin?” I asked, unable to keep the whiny edge that fell into my voice.

“Seokjin isn’t your normal frat boy- you know this.” Now her lispy voice just sounded exasperated, and usually that was my role to play. Without waiting for a response, Mary moved to the front door, and I quickly followed after. Each step proving to be more intimidating as the ball in my stomach dropped on a continuous loop. Dangerous.

Mary brought her hand up to the door, giving one, two, three, knocks before she felt satisfied enough to drop her hand back to her side. I waited with bated breath, feeling ridiculously exposed standing in front of the house.

A minute or two passed, and it almost seemed like no one was going to answer, but just as Mary turned to me with a slightly lost shrug- the door opened. My eyes flicked to the door where a familiar face stood. Jungkook, wearing a soft looking black shirt paired with grey sweatpants.

He seemed to be also taking in the situation, because the recognition didnt dawn on his face until his eyes made their way to mine. “Oh.” He said, though it came out more like a growl with how low his voice dipped. Dangerous.

I felt my cheeks warm, and i urged myself to look away— anywhere but the epitome of attractive standing in front of me. My attention fell on Mary, who was too busy with her own gawking to even try and start a conversation.

Right, I gave a light nod. So this was up to me. Returning my gaze back to Jungkook, I caught sight of an intimidating blotch of red and purple splattered on the side of his neck. This time my own face morphed into one of recognition. Oh.

But either Jungkook didn’t notice, or care, because moments later he was speaking, his voice more composed and less ‘just woke up rockstar.’ “Ah it's you– the girl i know, but don't know.” The familiar tone of amusement hung in his voice, and I looked up back to his face just in time to catch the corner of his lip quirking up.

  
It was then that Mary decided to chip in, but with nothing useful— only “You know him?!” Her head whipped to me like I had just confirmed the conspiracy that Hillary Clinton was a lizard.

My unhesitating response of “no” came at the exact same time as Jungkook’s cheery “yes.”

I threw a glare his way, to which he countered with a perky, close mouthed smile.

Mary was staring at me with a well known emotion, that the Newspaper Club named, “puppy-like confusion.” I opened my mouth— trying to think of some sort of explanation for this absolute conundrum when Jungkook cleared his throat.

“So, what can I do for you two today?” He looked smug. At what? I don't know, but the look was enough to make me feel childishly bitter.

The stricken look on Mary’s face didnt go away, but was now added to a bundle of all other emotions. Hesitance, being on the top list.

“An interview.” I didn't even think before answering, just shrugged and held up the notepad that was firmly gripped in my hand. As if to help with my point: Mary also held up her own pen and papers.

Jungkook leaned his side against the doorframe- seemingly blocking off entrance to the house. “Well, I’m not sure if an interview is better than the Jehova’s Witness speech I was expecting.” He raised an eyebrow, pointedly flicking his gaze between the two of us— before finally landing, and staying on my face. “What is it for?”

Just as I was about to respond with “School news-” a loud crashing sound came from the inside of the house. Quickly followed by the lighthearted laughter of two boys. I raised my eyebrow right back at Jungkook, who had turned his head slightly over his shoulder - probably to check the damage.

A muffled exchange of words commenced from the inside of the house, and Jungkook turned back towards us with a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Sorry, but no can do.” The words came out singy, like he wasn't really sorry at all. “We can't do an interview right now but maybe—”

The words stopped dead in his mouth when a cheerful face belonging to an amused looking boy behind him appeared. “Interview?” He sounded intruiged, and his gaze moved between the three of us: Mary, Me to Jungkook. “What interview?”

Jungkook had the expression of someone who wanted very badly to whip out the old 2012 “facepalm.”

I grinned wildly, offering a hand up — past Jungkook’s body. “I'm Eleanor Mcclairn

Jungkook stared down, rather indignantly, at my hand. The boy, without any apprehension, grabbed my hand in a firm shake and smiled wildly. “Jung Hoseok.” He said, eyes gleaming with a mischevious glint that had me nervously pulling my hand back. “So what's this about?”

Glancing over at Mary, she shrugged slightly, as if urging me to continue. I looked back towards the door, noticing how Jungkook had shifted for Hoseok to stand next to him. “We’re doing an article on the links between fraternities and binge drinking.” I said smoothly, trying not to come off too accusatory.

The boy, Hoseok, titled his head side to side in a bit of a contemplating motion. I thought, for a second, that he was going to agree with Jungkook. But with another wild smile and stepped back— leaving a spot in the door for entrance “Sure, why not?” Was the accompanying words, quickly followed by Jungkook’s loud sigh.

And that's how i found myself in the living room of the frat, which was oddly clean, with my notepad and pen sitting lightly in my jean clad lap. And Jung Hoseok, along with another boy- Kim Taehyung beside him, across from me. (Jungkook had refused to do the article- but instead sat to the side of us in a black couch— playing some game on his phone.)

Mary cleared her throat a bit to the left of me, and it reminded me to pull the reins back so she could handle her own Interview. I motioned for her to start— watching as the boys followed my arm movement like hawks. For friendly people they were oddly suspicious.

  
With an oddly serious expression, Mary leaned foreword a bit in her chair. “What would you say the atmosphere in the fraternity is like?” With her lisp the solemn tone was taken a bit away, and thiswas proven by a scoff coming from Jungkook. Or maybe he just found the question ridiculous.

Either way, I carefully jotted down the question in my notebook, waiting to hear the two’s answers.

Though, just as Taehyung opened his mouth to answer, Jungkook cut in. “Cozy.” He answered, looking directly at me from where his phone was still held in front of his face. “On friday nights we cuddle up next to the fire for a friendly game of Jenna.”

This surprised a laugh out of the other two boys, who also had their attention turned to Jungkook.

I raised my eyebrow, tapping my pen lightly on the page as Jungkook pulled another close mouthed smile. “Aren't you going to write it down?” He asked, face the perfect image of innocence.

Pulling a slowblink that could only be described as ‘done’ I turned my attention back to the other two.

Hoseok, noticing my irritability, cleared his throat - smiling vanishing from his lips. He launched into a rather well put explanation, with Tae chiming in here and there.

Jungkook sunk lower into his chair.

The interview continued like this for an hour or two, with Mary questioning, Jungkook trying to interrupt, and me writing down the most sensible answers I could. With all things considered, it went rather well. And Mary had a prideful glow with her the rest of the way back to the center of campus.

_《. 》_  
_track: talk too much - coin_

I watched as Seokjin took a long sip from his kale , smoothie, clearly avoiding my eyes. That little shit.

“Well?” I pushed, picking up a fry and sticking it in my mouth as his gaze traveled to every spot possible in the cafeteria except for where I sat in front of him.

We had met up for lunch, like most days, but today I used this daily meet up as a way to get information out of him.

Except he wasn't cooperating, and he wasn't even trying to hide it.

I narrowed my eyes as he continued to fidget under my gaze. “I don't know what you want me to say.” Is the response that eventually found its way out of his lips.

I had to hold myself back from throwing my hands in the air, “Anything! Any details you have on this Jeon Jungkook would be nice.” I continued, trying not to feel too weird with myself for becoming a prying stalker.

But the kid had it coming. I mean, with the strange interactions between us lately I was allowed to be confused. And I was also, most definitely, allowed to want some knowledge on him. Knowledge which Seokjin had to possess.

Seokjin shrugged again, much to my dismay. “He's a good kid. Good grades, doesn't talk about his folks muc–”

“He parties.” My tone came off accusatory, and I wanted to smack myself for it.

Seokjin let out an exasperated, squeak of a laugh. “Yes, he parties, El.” The sarcasm that hung in his voice was so thick, I swear it made me cough a little bit. “But so does half of the college population. Myself included.” He raised an eyebrow at the last bit and I found myself inwardly sputtering for words.

But he was right, this was college, and a party was the best way to take off the edge. I was in the minority by ignoring them. I rested my chin on my hand, feeling dumb for letting myself be so petty. “I know.” the words came out softly and I forced myself to stare at the cup of fries on my table.

“What is this really about?” Seokjin asked lightly, finally releasing his death grip on the smoothie. “You've never once spared a glance towards a fraternity, or cared about the ongoings of parties. And now you're doing news articles on them and stalking Jeon Jungkook.”

His blunt honesty made my cheeks heat up a bit. And also a feeling of relief hit me suddenly. Jin was real, always had been, and it was strangely reassuring. Even if it wasn't what you wanted to hear. There was a reason everyone needed a Kim Seokjin in their life. “He's just— He's driving me crazy, Jin.” I snapped up then, patting my cheeks lightly with both hands in an attempt to wake myself up. “Lately, I’ve been hearing of him everywhere, and not in that way that's ironic.”

A soft smile made its way to Seokjin’s lips, and he stirred the contents of his smoothie around lightly with the purple straw. “There's an ironic way to that?” He asked, a laugh playing in his words.

I clicked my tongue, rolling my eyes at the insincerity in his tone.

Seokjin shook his head, smile still planted firmly on his face. “Look don't worry about Jungkook, he's not out to get you or anything.” He tipped his smoothie at me, more for effect than anything else “things will go back to normal, i'm sure.”

I smiled back, shrugging in agreement to his words. Though a small thought played in the back of my mind, yelling at me, because for some reason it felt so untrue.

  
_《. 》_  
_track: we are young - fun_

Working on Friday nights weren't fun. Even for someone who had no plans. It's not like I needed the free time— the semester had just begun so there wasn't really anything to be studying for. And I definitely wasn't going to be attending any of the Spring parties. It just would've been nice to have a day off, that's all.

The traffic in the shop ran late, forcing me to keep the doors open later than the closing hours. In theory this should've been annoying, but in reality it was nice to have the company. Plus, there was something so satisfying in spending your time surrounded by nature.

There's studies that say plants adore being spoken to. And maybe that's why our store does so well. Our flowers are the best listeners, and secret keepers— and what I tell them has no end. If they thrive on the stories I have to tell, then I’m no better. Because I thrive on being able to tell them.

It was rounding 22:00, and the last of the costomers had just shuffled out. Our Friday hours went longer than th rest of the week, so I wasn't too surprised, but a sleep schedule was a schedule after all. And schedules should never be broken.

I felt my eyes slowly begin to droop as I sat behind the counter, waiting a solid half hour before I decided to close up shop. It was a general rule my mom had. When the clock hit 22:30, I decided it was well past time to begin closing up.

The routine wasn't long, only a bit of sweeping here and there— checking the plants and then locking up. Like most of the work here; I enjoyed it.

I was mid sweep when a soft knock against the door made me stand up straight. A figure leaned heavily against the doorframe, and worry immediately punched my gut.

I set the broom down as I moved to the front of the store, feelings of nostalgia coming too strongly for my liking.

I shouldn't have been surprised, but when I opened the door to reveal Jungkook leaning against it, I felt a wave of shock pulse through my body. “Jungkook?” The named spilled out before I could stop it, and I felt instantly embarrassed by the concern that sat heavy in my tone.

The boy in question looked up, his cheek dusted with an appealing blush color, probably fault of the alcohol he reeked of. He had a soft, content, look on his face. But the second his eyes met mine I saw a flash of his own surprise, and to my dismay a little bit of recognition. “You—” he held up a hand, voice stronger than it had been the first night, and something told me he wasn't all that drunk right now.

I prayed to whatever gods existed that all memories of this would be wiped from his perfect looking head.

“What are you doing here, Jungkook?” I made sure there was no accusation in my voice, only confusion. There was no point in trying to fight with a nearly drunk frat boy.

I just wanted to be home.

Jungkook slowly sunk down until his back was to me, and he was sitting on the front step of the shop— staring out into the street. “I just thought i'd get a nice whiff of those Marigolds.” Humor painted his words and I found myself shaking my head indignantly.

How could he always keep up this behavior? As if the world was infinitely funny to him? Even as he sat, drunk, on the front step of a flower shop.

For whatever reason, I found myself sitting next to him, keeping a solid foot in between the two of us. Just in case he wanted to share what he had eaten this evening with me.

“Marigolds are out of season.” I said easily, leaning back with my two hands behind me.

Jungkook glanced at me, eyebrow raised in an expression that could only be categorized as “impressed.” He returned his sight back to the street. “So she does possess a little sass.”

I scoffed, watching the street lights paint his features. He was truly, unfairly attractive. “Excuse you,” I started, keeping my voice quiet “I am incredibly sassy.”

I watched the side of his lip twitch, “Iris my case.”

My jaw went slack before finally dropping in full on disbelief. “Did you just—”

Jungkook’s whole face broke off into one of pure amusement now, though he still focused his attention on the street.

I blinked at his back, unable to believe that this popular, frat boy just made a flower pun at me. My own lips ached to pull into an amused grin. We sat like that for a while, the silence welcome, and not at all the uncomfortable like it should've been. Cars passed, and Jungkook watched them all until they were out of sight.

Just as I was about to comment back, he stood up.

“I should get going.” I could hear the alcohol in his tone— dropping his voice and making him sound looser. Not as rigid. “Gotta party to get back to.” He threw me a smile, once again backing down the stairs in a wobbly fashion.

I stared after him, not bothering to say goodbye, and not trusting myself to ask the question that pounded the back of my thoughts.

_Why? Why? Why? Why?_

A shiver climbed up my arm as the silence, that Jungkook's presence had once occupied, fell over me.

 _Why did he come here, if only to leave right after? He clearly didn't seem as drunk as last time._ I could only think that maybe this wasn't an accidental thing. They two times a coincidence - but it felt more important than that to me.

He wasn't sloshed, instead only at that stage of drunk that someone’s at before the heavy drinking starts. Why did it seem like a coping mechanism to me?

My head felt like it was going to explode from the questions, curiosity, and confusion. I wanted to bang my head against the wall, frustrated that I was even considering any of this.

I moved back into the shop, focusing now on finishing my work, and not steering my gaze to the front step where Jungkook had been peacefully sitting just moments before. It was difficult convincing myself that what had happened was reality. And not a weird plot my head had conjured.

No matter how much I ran over the events in my head, it felt fake.

_《. 》_  
_track: move my way - the vamps_

I checked my clock one more time before picking up the shop keys and heading to where my bike was set. Working Saturday mornings were probably the best hours possible. For a couple of reasons. Firstly, it was a short shift, lasting only four hours. And secondly, the normal requirements were bike deliveries; and there was nothing more easy going than that.

The last delivery of the day was to my university, the Deans office, for a celebratory award that was being handed out, or something. I hadn't payed much attention to the details, more preoccupied with getting to bike around campus in the good weather.

My sleep last night had been mediocre at best— it was hard to fall asleep with last nights events on repeat in my memory. I sighed into the spring air, pushing all thoughts of Jungkook and his weird behavior out of my head. There was no way, in a thousand years, that i’d ever understand him.

I hiked up to the administration's office— the bouquet sat lightly between my hands. The building was foreign to me, there was never a time I had been asked to visit the Dean. Neither for bad behavior or stunning grades. The latter was only a concept that was concocted in my dreams.

I was brought by an incredibly friendly secretary to a door that was labeled “Dean,” and an invitation from her to open the door and let myself in. Though, for some reason that seemed a little too personal.

I gave a soft knock— not wanting to interrupt any important discussion that could've been possibly transpiring behind the wooden door. A gruff response of “Come in” greeted me, and I gave the door knob a twist before pushing the door open.

In front of me stood a scene that I, never in my wildest dreams, could've imagined. Before me stood Jungkook, because of fucking course, right? With his hand extended towards a letter that was being handed to him by, none other than, the Dean, himself. Though, both stood frozen, each glancing over at me. The bouquet almost fell out of my hands.

The only words, thoughts, emotions- whatever you may call it- that was in my head was: Jungkook is getting expelled. He was caught partying, he's getting kicked out. And here I was, with a bouquet of flowers, like some special committee: congratulating him.

Jungkook’s mouth hung open, hand that was formerly extended toward the letter, pointing at me. “You–” His words matched last night, and this brought on a whole body cringe. “It's you.” He looked just as shocked as I did, and before I could even stop myself— I was setting the flowers down and backing out of the room.

Though, with every step I took, Jungkook followed with one of his own. “No.” Was the only word that was able to slip out of my lips. It sounded like a warning, as if i was subconsciously telling him to stop, but this seemed to only urge him forward. Because now he was moving towards me with a bemused smile beginning to pool on his lip.

I ducked my head at the Dean before basically sprinting down the corridor and out of the building.

Hardly a surprise, but still shocking in more ways than one, Jungkook followed me out— running after me like the maniac he was.

Bike completely forgotten, I kept going, ignoring the stares of people who seemed to be gawking at the way I was sprinting away from the Dean’s office. (But I would be too, let's be honest.)

“Hey!” A shout came from behind me, causing me to stumble and trip over my own feet— face planting into the very accommodating gravel. “Flower girl- eh,” he cut himself off— and i prayed with all my might that he’d let me lay here in my own shame.

I lifted my head just in time to see him squatting in front of me— his own hair disheveled, cheeks painted pink. “So it's you, huh?” He looked accomplished, like he was a detective solving a case. “I knew that I knew you.” He seemed so smug that I had the sudden urge to lower my head back down into the gravel.

“How can you be like this?” I asked, breathlessly, trying to situate myself into a sitting position, as Jungkook continued to squat in front of me.

“Like what?” He seemed way too excited for this. Like a dog waiting for its treat.

“Like, irresponsible.” I pressed— wiping stray rocks off of my cheeks. “How can you run away from the Dean, who was in the process of expelling you?!”

Jungkook, for once, looked put off—  
blinking blankly at me, as if i had just spoken a foreign language at him. “Expelled?”

We stared at each other for mere seconds before the realization dawned on his face, and his expression quickly morphed into unabashed laughter.

I watched with warming cheeks as he huffed down at me.

“Expelled? You thought I was getting expelled?!” He shifted a little in his squat position, “McClaire, I was receiving a high honor. For maintaining a 4.2 GOA for two years straight.” The use of my last name was lost on me due to the information that had just been left in the open.

4.2 GPA. For two whole years. I couldn't even maintain a 3.4 for one semester.

“You're gaping.” He commented, pushing himself up to a full standing position. “Your flowers, these” he held up the bouquet that had previously been in my own hands “were for me.” was the finishing sentence that had me slow blinking into a deep pit of embarrassment.

He held down a hand to me, an offering to help pull me up. People strode past, watching every movement between the two of us like it was some ongoing celebrity drama. Though, in their eyes- it probably was. Jungkook, and the rest of his frat, were the closest things this university had to celebrities.

I hauled myself up, not bothering with his hand or the confusion that colored his face. I couldn't face him— not now, probably never. I pushed past him just as he let out a surprised “hey—” trying to get my attention.

I almost tripped again when Jungkook jogged up beside me, trekking a bit further ahead so he could backpedal and look at me head on. “Did you really not recognize me?”

I blinked at him, trying to remain the cool image of nonchalance though my cheeks kept burning pink.

“I mean, showing up to your place of work at late hours isn't something i'm proud of— but I at least expected a roast from you.” He flashed me a nervous smile, but I was surprised to see that even his confidence was waning.

He stopped walking just as I did, still facing me head on as if this was some type of showdown.

I took a breathe. “Look, i’m sorry.” Jungkook opened his mouth seemingly trying to combat my words, but I held up a hand before he could say anything “I stereotyped and judged you.” I gave an apologetic bow, raising myself back up to see absolute disbelief painted on his face. “Congratulations on the award.”

I kept walking, feeling a force like dejavu hit me when he called out for me again. I didn't stop, wondering if he would follow me once more. But, to both the disappointment and relief settling in my stomach, he didn't. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jungkook is really good at showing up when he's needed. (Or when he's not.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thaaannk you all so so much for all the support on this!! Honestly, if you guys didn't continue to push me for updates this story would've stopped after chapter 1. I love you all so so much, aahhh.

* * *

  _track: vegas skies - the cab_

 

I glanced up at the seemingly endless stacks of write-ins, wishing for them to somehow disappear before my eyes. It was chaos in the offices of the News Club. Almost straight after the Fraternity article had been released, there had been letters upon letters of indignant students. Most of them claiming that the article was unjust: an uncalled for attack on Fraternities. Others had deeper questions— wanting to know which House specifically could be held responsible. In other words: _it was a fucking mess_. Mary, though, having been the main editor and writer of it: was taking most of the heat. And it was quite obvious, with her wearisome behavior as of late.

Mary skidded into the room - weary eyes jumping to every object seen. “El, I’m so sorry.” She sounded panicky, a signal to the rest of the club that she was close to self destruction.

“Mary-” I tried to cut in, using my softest voice, but she wasn't’ having any of it. Instead, she only started bustling around the room more, doing nothing productive, but still working around.

“We’ve definitely lost her, boss.” Jona’s solemn voice cut in, and when I turned to look at him: he was hosting the biggest shit eating grin. “Call her Leo Dicaprio because this girl's sinkin-”

“That’s enough, Jona.” I interrupted, watching as he tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe to pestering grin off his face. He leaned his hand back for Finn to give it an appreciative smack. And once again in my editing career, I wondered if those two possessed any sympathy at all.

Mary continued to bustle around- picking up a letter, cringing, and then repeating with another as she tried to open _every_ _single_ _one_.

“I should've never suggested this _stupid_ article. I've put the news club in lots of trouble, oh have I ever.” Mary was babbling, hands shaking as she opened letter after letter. I watched hopelessly, letting out little sounds of interruption here and there. Any time she got a little _too_ self degrading. Mary blamed herself for the backlash of the article, though in truth, every member played a part in publishing it. Not that Mary would ever recognize that. The thing was, when Mary went into panic mode, there was no stopping her. She put everything on herself, and tended to cut everyone out. That is, except for Seokjin. He was, seemingly, the only one who could calm her down.

I threw my rubber band ball at the side of Seokjin’s head, causing him to glance at me — looking a little betrayed. I raised an eyebrow back at Seokjin, and mouthed the words ‘ _go help, dickwit_ ’ at his passive face.

Seokjin gave a secretive smile, and raised his hands in defeat as he moved towards the other girl. I took in the scene, watching as he rested a calming hand on Mary’s  shoulder, before mumbling something softly to her. Probably - ‘ _follow me_ ’ since the two of them left the room, shortly after.

    Finn gave out a low whistle— and I turned my attention towards the noise, already ready to bully him back into place. “I don’t want to say it but —” He glanced over at Jona, who returned a shrug, to which Finn also shrugged back. The two of them sat shrugging back and forth at each other for a good minute, Jona’s face passive, while Finn looked scandalized.

    “Boys, please.” It was no time for me to be cracking up at their strange antics, even though they looked so funny. “Start helping with some of these letters.”

    Finn broke off in a light, breathy chuckle, while Jona remained a passive face- clearly acting still for the jokes. “C’mon, Cobra Commander, it _is_ her fault.” He sounded set in his opinion. “It was her idea in the first place- we all told her it was a bad one.” He cleared his throat. “Which is why _she_ should be the one to deal with these letters.”

    Jona gave an agreeing nod, his face finally normal, if not a little serious.

    I raised an eyebrow at the two boys, more disappointed than anything else. “You’re going to blame her?” Even I could hear the beginnings of venomous anger seeping into my voice, which explained why both of the boys held such defensive poses now. “When you two were the ones _urging her_ to turn it into the drama piece it became?!”

    _“No one_ told her to go around attacking random people,” Jona’s own irritated voice shot back at me. “Honestly, it’s no wonder she’s made some enemies, she basically defamed the most popular boy at our university - with no hard truth. Or have you forgotten about this?” He tossed the latest print my way, a paragraph dedicated to one singular person highlighted in bright yellow.

_Though one boy stands out from the rest, Jeon Jungkook, member of the Sigma Chi fraternity. Who has made a rather wondrous show of partying ,not only on weekends, but throughout the week as well. Going as far to even skip classes. And seeing as though he is, somewhat, of a celebrity at our school- its no wonder that he’d be the one to start this binge drinking trend..._

    I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose with one hand. This part Mary had done solely on her own, without even consulting anyone on the team before publishing. A real shocker to us when we found out. She had been rather upset with how Jungkook had acted at the interview, and even more put off by how easily affected she was by his looks. Basically it was an unwarranted vendetta.

    When Finn spoke again, it was in a much more diluted tone, his voice only holding confusion. “So tell me why we should be responsible for her mess.”

    I glanced up and swallowed the insults that wanted to fly out of my mouth. Collecting my things in my arms, I stood up and moved towards the door, trying to think clearly with all the emotions running rampant in my head.

    “Boss-”

    I couldn’t make out who had called after me, didn’t have the energy to find out either. “When you can tell me why you should _defend a friend_ ,” I shook my head, unable to comprehend it, “ _then_ I’ll come back.” I glanced back at the two of them - expressions open. “I mean, really, you two act like you’ve never made a mistake before.” Without waiting for a response, I opened the door and left for the library.

¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨

_track: there’s nothing holdin’ me back - shawn mendes_

Walking to the library was, in normal circumstances, an enjoyable route where I could spend the time in my thoughts, but now- with the absolute lack of anything to take my mind off the situation: it made me cringe to arrive at the library with absolutely no plan in mind.

    Normally, this was my time to be studying with Namjoon. Or, moreover, getting tutored. Kim Namjoon was a Senior, and head of the Science Club, but he was also my savior. He had tutored me in almost every science course that I struggled in (which was most of them), and for a cheap price too. A true angel sent from god.

    I had canceled our usual session in favor of the “Newspaper Club emergency meeting”, but standing here now, I wished desperately that I could call Namjoon back and beg him to give me the original tutor session. I sighed deeply, moving through the rows of empty desks - lined by bookshelves. The school library was massive; extending three floors, each with study sections. In my first year of university I used to pretend the library belonged to _Hogwarts_ \- and that I was in some sort of wizarding school.

    The memories pulled a light smile onto my lips, making me wish to be back in the beginning again. I quickly pulled open my books, not wanting to get distracted by the nostalgia that clung onto my thoughts.

Studying Chemistry even with a tutor was difficult. Studying Chemistry by myself made me want to fling myself into the endless abyss of space. Nothing made sense. Nothing. I stared at the equations, uselessly, cursing the College planners for making this a “core” subject. _When was I ever going to need to balance an equation while filming movies?_ My head hurt, and the endless sets of letters and numbers that stood before me didn’t help.

“Ugh,” I dropped my head uselessly onto the desk in front of me, feeling like death would be a more welcome addition to this day. There were four beats, _four beats_ , of holy silence. Right until the chair beside mine squeaked against the floor; indicating that someone had occupied the place next to me. Right next to me. Out of all the empty chairs in the room, this one. How tragic.

I probably could've lifted my head, probably should've, but no part of me wanted to show my face to anyone. So I hoped, that whoever was next to me, wasn't offended by my lack of acknowledgement.

_“_ Having a rough go of it?” A familiar drawl came from the ‘intruder of personal space.’

I almost wanted to groan at how obvious my life seemed to playing out. I lifted my head slightly, resting my chin on my arm, to look at Jungkook. He seemed to be mirroring my position - head resting against his bent arm, his hair fluffy, looking masterfully disheveled. Somehow, he always managed to look like the personified version of a god. I wanted to smack him for it.

“So is that what you do? Trash someone in an article and then nap off the bad feelings?” He held a smile, looking like the concept was hilarious— but his words made me cringe, and Jungkook took definite noticed of my distaste.

“Jungkook—” I tried to start but when I returned my sight back to him, he was fixing me with such a concentrated look that I immediately felt uncomfortable. I sat up abruptly, and somehow he took this as an invitation to invade my personal space. Because, moments later, he leaned in- ridiculously close to me.

Basically stretched across my lap, with elbows resting on the desk, Jungkook was peering down at my chemistry book with a look of intense interest. Or at least, I assumed, considering all I had a glimpse of was the back of his head.

“All your equations are unbalanced.” He commented, voice sounding much more like a professor than the frat boy. “Did you even _try_ to correctly place co-efficients?” I flushed, the feeling of being in a ‘classroom setting’ hitting me like a brick. I couldn't see his face, but I could only imagine what type of incredulity it held. I wanted to burrow further into my sweater. I wanted to retort back, sneer that he probably knew less than I did. But I was far too concerned with the proximity between us to do anything of that sort.

He pulled back— far enough to finally be out of my lap, but still close enough where I could see the light golden flecks that swam in his dark eyes. “Are you studying? Or making John Dalton roll in his grave?” His voice was low even though it held only amusement, for some reason it sent shivers up my arms. It was a mystery to the world how he made bullying attractive.

His eyes still held that full intensity, and it was oddly both intimidating and flattering to have his full attention directed at me. “Eh..” I gave a light shrug, watching Jungkook’s eyes follow the movements like a sniper trained on it’s target. “Why aren't you mad?” The words that chose to came out my mouth were definitely tension breakers, which is what I needed right now. And they definitely threw the boy off.

I took in the switch of emotions on Jungkook’s face— his eyes changing like the seasons in front of me. A look of indignation snapped on his face at last, making me wonder how he could always remain combative. “Trust me, I am thoroughly enraged by the travesty of your Cobalt and Carbon Monoxide-”

I scoffed, slamming my hand lightly on the desk, “The article, Jungkook.”

He tilted his head at me, his face finally dropping the act of “rage” and landing on something along the lines of soft. “Why would I be mad?” he rested his chin on his hand, brown eyes searching mine. “You didn’t write that.”

“Yes but I _aided_ in that.”

His lips quirked into a smile, and my stomach flopped. “Your reaction right now is telling me you wish you hadn’t.”

I swallowed, feeling completely outspoken, stuck wondering why I had even tried.

He started at me for a while, and I back. There was absolutely no way to tell what was going on inside of his head. My thoughts were running wild, yelling at me to _say something, say anything._ But I felt like any words I could spout out were inadequate. How do you apologize to someone for basically trashing their reputation? “Tell me what do to make up for it.”

Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a flicker of surprise flash across his face, for only a split second. Although, I couldn’t be sure, because right after he was fixing me with an amused grin. “One question?”

I spluttered, thrown off. “What?”

“Let me ask one question?” He was watching me intently, like I was some endangered animal that needed cautious wording.

I nodded, preparing myself for the worst - _what kind of monster are you? Was this your plan all along? Who else have you potentially def-_

“What’s in your bag?” His real question caught me off guard, and I followed his line of vision to where he was staring right at my film bag.

I shuffled a bit, uncomfortable and suddenly embarrassed. “My camera, equipment, and stuff.”

“What do you need that for?”

The genuine curiosity in his voice is what made my shoulders loosen, he didn't seem mocking or berating. Or any sort of teasing. His face held genuine interest, and it made me warm up instantly. “I'm a film major— well, film production major.”

Jungkook’s eyes rounded comically, and he glanced back at me with a sort of amazed wonder. “So you're going to make movies and stuff—”

I let out a little gasp of a laugh, trying not to associate him with my brothers when he seemed to mirroring them exactly. Young, naive. “I want to tell stories. Make people feel something.” I shrugged, looking around the library and realizing that we really seemed to be the only two on this level. “So, yeah.”

Jungkook nodded, seemingly understanding exactly what I was talking about. I had no idea what this was, I hadn’t ever said more than ten words in one setting with the boy, and now here I was sharing my life goals and aspirations as if we were childhood best friends.

I moved my attention back to my books, also realizing that this was the first time Jungkook had ever appeared somewhat serious around me. It was unnerving, and as much as I disliked his ever present amusement: I was suddenly wishing for it back. I started packing my books, and I could practically feel Jungkook’s curious gaze boring into the side of my face.

“I actually have a shoot today- filming,” I had no idea why I started giving the explanation, it was just- something about leaving Jungkook staring and confused that made me feel unsettled. “For my spring project.” I glanced outside the window, taking in the grey clouds- heavy indicators that it was going to rain not too long from now.

Jungkook seemed to be on the same page, because when I looked back at him he held a comical smile on his face. “In the mood for ruining your equipment?” The sarcasm was back, and I couldn’t stop my eyebrow from raising at him disinterestedly. My response seemed to tempt him more, because the smile on his lips tilted higher. “Gonna get some good shots of those rain puddles?”

I shoved my books into my book bag, quickly zipping it up and picking up my things in one swift motion. Deciding quickly that it would be better to keep my mouth shut and temper in check. When I glanced back at Jungkook he raised an eyebrow back at me. I opened my mouth to say something, anything. Another apology, or just yell at him for always being a shit head, but the only thing that came out was: “I'll see you around.”

“I'm just messing with you— you know that?” Jungkook's response made me whip around, and the humor that was on his face had dimmed a little bit. It made my stomach drop. I didn't want him to think he couldn't joke around, normally I would've chastised him for it, but at the moment I felt wrong about doing anything that could potentially be considered unpleasant to him.

I threw back my heartiest smile— hoping it seemed real rather than forced. “Have you gone soft on me, Jungkook?”

I didn't wait for the response, just quickly turned away towards the stairs and the exit.

   

———————————————————

_track: believe - mumford and sons_

   

    The second I stepped outside a crack of thunder rang in the sky. I gave a small shiver of fright, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t get caught in the storm. I had given Jungkook the quick excuse of a “filming shoot”, when in reality I just wanted to be home when the storm hit. I had a crippling fear of storms- something I’d brought with me from my childhood.

    The walk to the bus stop wasn’t long, only 20 minutes, but it felt like years under the dark, intimidating clouds. I walked quicker, wishing now more than ever to be able to apparate like a wizard from _Harry Potter_. The second whip of thunder had me frozen in place, and it was just then that the rain started.

    My whole body gave a full shudder under the coldness of the rain, and I willed my legs to pick up the pace again.

    At the third indication of thunder I couldn’t will myself any further. There was a strange sensation in my body: utter and hopeless fear. It was almost as if some invisible rope had tied itself around my legs.

    A sleek, black buick pulled up to the side of the road,and I turned my attention quickly away from the driver, hoping that they would just continue to drive rather than look my way. In the background I could faintly hear the window being rolled down, maybe even a voice calling out to me. But thunder rung dangerously in the air, and my whole body cringed in a way where I was left squatting on the ground- bookbag forgotten, and arms wrapped around myself in a form of protection. The rain pounded down harder.

    I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut- convince myself this was a bad dream, but before I could - a hand reached down into my line of sight, offering to help me up. I lifted my head, before me stood Jungkook, soaking wet, with my bags slung over his shoulder and his hand extended towards me. “C’mon,” He said lightly, but there was no rush to his voice, no indication of anything even remotely close to amusement. He seemed patient- dark eyes watching me with more understanding than I’ve ever seen - or maybe I was just imagining it.

I grabbed his hand, letting him pull me up easily, basically against his body. He placed a hand gently on my waist, probably balancing me, or maybe for the physical support. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was the physical contact gave a much needed sense of relief. Desperately, I fought the urge to lean heavily against him. “...but the door’s unlocked, you can get in.”  

Whatever he had begun with was lost due to the pelting rain and obnoxious booming in the sky, but I got enough of it to move hesitantly towards the car. I was unsteady, and every time another boom of thunder sounded: I cringed. As I moved towards the car, I thought humorlessly about how at another time I’d be running over just what kind of life Jeon Jungkook lived to be driving a black buick. But at the moment, the relief from the rain, and little sound barrier from the thunder was enough to leave me thanking whatever gods for him to have crossed my path.

The second Jungkook was settled in he turned the radio on- loud. Any evidence of the storm was interrupted by the music playing through the speakers. I looked over at him, a wave of gratitude surging through my body. He stepped on the gas, hair dripping, clothes stuck to his body. I didn’t ask where he was going, didn’t care. I could only stare.

We drove for a while, going nowhere in particular, I assumed.I watched out the window, not recognizing the scenery of wherever we were. And once again, I was surprised to find how little I cared. Neither of us spoke, but the silence was filled with the music that continued to play through the radio.

_So open up my eyes, tell me I'm alive._

The car slowed to a halt, stuck behind a red light, and I looked back over at Jungkook to find his attention directed at me as well.

_This is never gonna go our way, If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind._

I turned down the music a bit, keeping my sight on the radio pad, rather than looking back at Jungkook. “Thank you,” it sounded inadequate to my own ears. There was not enough to say to express my gratitude. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something more, when Jungkook cut in.

    “My sister also.”

    His words were simple, but the tone and the shortness of them had me glancing quickly back at him. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, rather at the red light, probably waiting for it to change. I wanted to ask him, touch more on his comment. But even I was bright enough to pick up on what he wasn’t saying. _My sister is also afraid of storms._ And something about his tone told me he didn’t want to discuss it.

    The light remained red, and when Jungkook glanced back at me I internally cringed at how I must’ve looked -  still staring at him. “Where do you want to be right now?” I knew he was asking if he should drive me home, but I had no desire to be there. I glanced at the clock- _20:13._ I thought of my mom, thinking of how worried she probably was. But Jungkook sat in front of me, hair now only beginning to dry, clothes still soaked.

The storm was long over with. There was no reason for me to still be here. Jungkook was still watching me, I shrugged in response. For a moment I was worried that he wouldn’t catch the movement, but his gaze was held against me like he couldn’t look away. I nodded to the light which was now blaring green at us, and Jungkook’s lips tilted up slightly, just a bit.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

_track: favorite record - fall out boy_

“Are you going to drive?” I asked, finding the strength in my voice coming back.

 

He shook his head a little, and I could practically see the muscles in his cheeks working to hold the smile back. The car kicked into motion, and I couldn’t help my own smile that worked on my own lips.

It was spring, so it was not yet completely dark at this time, but the sun setting in the horizon made for a beautiful viewpoint. We talking about everything, and nothing all at once. The conversation ranging from favorite hamburger condiments to song genres.

“I’m sorry I just can’t see how you can enjoy modern _Fall Out Boy_ when their older stuff is so much better.” Jungkook argued, raising his hands defensively, before quickly returning them to the wheel.

I angled my body towards him- back resting against the car door. “I’m not saying it’s _better now_ , I’m just saying it’s still amazing.” My smile grew at the look on his face.

After a while the conversation got too intense for driving, and he ended up pulling into a Mcdonald's parking lot so he could angle his body towards me, as well, and continue.

I learned more about Jungkook than I ever thought was possible. Not necessarily important things, just little facts about him that made him seem so much personable. I learned how funny he was, how he could make any topic interesting enough if you just let him babble about it for long enough. I liked listening to him talk about the things he was interested in - like his friends in the frat.

“Do you really think we’re that bad?” He asked after a while of silence between us.

I looked at him, shaking my head once, and then again for good measure. “No, I don’t.” I admitted, watching as a smile crept it’s way back to his face. “But, I’ll have you know I’ve been best friends with Kim Seokjin for as long as I can remember.”

The surprise lit his face up like a christmas tree. “Kim Seokjin?”

I nodded, smiling at the thought of my best friend. He was, no doubt, going to laugh at me for hours after after the news of this night reached him. Jungkook opened his mouth to speak, eyes wide with new information. But before he could my phone exploded with a loud ringing from my bag in the back seat. He raised his eyes expectantly, and I sighed, muttering a quick, “Let’s take bets on who that is,” before pushing myself over the seat- trying to grab it. This, of course, was a hilarious idea to Jungkook and he burst out laughing. Instead of yelling at me for dirtying his expensive-ass car. I rolled my eyes and dug around blindly in my bag as the ringer continued to go and Jungkook continued to laugh.

    I cringed once I picked it up and was met with the Caller ID of my mom. Nearly 11:00 now, and I hadn't let her know anything of my whereabouts. I quickly hit the green receive option, starting off with a “Hi mom…” Just to let Jungkook know not to pull anything funny. I turned my head to glare at him, another warning for him to stop laughing, and he raised his hands in defense.

“ _Honey? Oh I’m so relieved to hear your voice, you haven’t been picking up any of my calls. Are you okay, where are you_?” My mom spoke quickly through the phone, and I was beyond relieved to hear no anger in her tone.

“Yeah, ma, I’m good. I’m- er,” I glanced at Jungkook to see him watching me expectantly back; “Studying,” His eyebrows shot up, and he mouthed the words ‘ _oh are we?’_ back at me. I shooed him with my hand.

“ _With who?_ ” My mom’s suspicious voice replied back into my ear and I shifted uncomfortably, really glad that she couldn’t see me. I was a horrible liar, and that was increased by 10,000 when it came to my mom.

“With Mary.” I lied quickly, glancing back at Jungkook to see him typing away on his own phone. I let out a content sigh.

My mom continued speaking for a while, telling me to get home before 12:30, and I agreed lightheartedly. I ended the call with a quick ‘ _love you too’_ before shoving the phone back into my bag. “I was, _genuinely_ , expecting a roasting of a lifetime-” I cut off, looking over at Jungkook who seemed to be paying me no attention.

He continued tapping away on his phone, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“Jungkook?”

He looked up suddenly, eyes widened in faux innocence. “Jungkook? Who’s that?” He paused, lips tilting up in his tell-tale sign of mischief. “I thought I was Mary?”  I leaned over to whack on the side of the head, which just lead to an eruption of breathy laughs to arise from him.

“ _Jungkook.”_

He continued to laugh, but waved at me in understanding. “Yeah, yeah. I got it. Type in your address.” He nodded to the GPS in the center console, and I followed his orders, if not a little slowly. He must’ve heard my mom's orders of when I should be back. Honestly, I didn’t want to go home. Spending time with Jungkook had taken all of my thoughts from the mess that was currently my life.

The drive back seemed way shorter than the way there, and when we got onto my street we both agreed that it would probably be better if he didn’t pull into my driveway. Of course after Jungkook, looking scandalized, exclaimed - ‘ _am I just a dirty little secret?!’_

He parked a few houses down, but I wasn’t quick to get out. Jungkook didn’t seem to be in a rush either.

    “I know where you live now,” Jungkook broke the silence with a shit eating grin painted on his lips.

    “Creepy.” Was my immediate response, which sent him into a surprised laugh. There was a moment of silence, where I was staring out at the streetlights and Jungkook as well. “Thank you, for everything tonight.” I looked over at him with a soft smile.

    Jungkook opened his mouth, but quickly closed it after- just giving a nod in response.

    I glanced away, feeling the events of the night actually hit me. “Well, I should probably-”

    He coughed out what sounded like a “yeah.” And it dawned on me that he was probably feeling mountains upon mountains of awkward.

    I nodded quickly, and opened the door - stepping out of the car with my bags in hand. Jungkook started the car as I did so, and I waved to the set of headlights behind me. Whether he waved back or not, I couldn’t tell.


End file.
